


Fly & Aim

by kriticize



Series: Fly & Aim AU [1]
Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Competition, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Volleyball, Volleyball AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:41:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29258355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kriticize/pseuds/kriticize
Summary: Getting accepted into the University of Terrasen is nothing short of a dream for Aelin Galathynius. After all, it is where her father's simple volleyball ambition started and turned him into one of the most prominent athletes of Erilea. With her own aspiration of becoming a pillar of the sport, she intends to immerse herself in everything volleyball-related, which includes the official team and the club. However, the infuriating (and handsome) club president, Rowan Whitethorn, shoots her down and rejects her application. Thus, marking the start of their passionate hatred toward each other.After a year, Aelin's time for the team tryouts finally comes. It is also time for her to make Whitethorn bite his tongue and eat his words. Oh, how she'd enjoy exacting her little revenge.
Relationships: Aedion Ashryver/Lysandra, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius | Celaena Sardothien & Rowan Whitethorn, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius | Celaena Sardothien/Rowan Whitethorn, Dorian Havilliard/Chaol Westfall, Elide Lochan/Lorcan Salvaterre
Series: Fly & Aim AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2148552
Comments: 30
Kudos: 63





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This fic is inspired by the manga and anime "Haikyuu!!" I was watching season 3 and I thought I should write down a fic like it for Rowaelin.
> 
> In line with this, I would like to inform you of certain liberties I took (and I will take) in writing this. I also apologize for possible inaccuracies when it comes to volleyball. Of course, I still do research to be as close as possible. Do not worry, though! The sport is a major part of the story, but the romance aspect is the star of the show. With that in mind, I hope you enjoy! And tell me what you think.
> 
> (I HIGHLY SUGGEST WATCHING "HAIKYUU!!"--I swear this is the only anime that gives me goosebumps almost every episode)

The bright blue and yellow ball bounced off the concrete with an echoed boom. Wisps of golden hair strayed away from the tight ponytail Aelin Galathynius had donned earlier, curling around her face and shoulders like vines. Without a care, she simply wiped the chin sweat on her shoulder, scratching her cheek along her shirt’s rough texture. It couldn’t be helped. The bench was far enough to reach inside her drawstring bag for a clean towel that smelled of citrus fruits. It was too far because at the moment, she had succumbed to the blazing irritation threatening to consume her before the practice.

Aelin of the Wildfire, she was dubbed. Not because of the burning spirit that possessed her during games. Of course not.

It was because once she had become agitated, she went all out and turned into a creature akin to that of a fire-breathing dragon. Or so her old teammates said.

She didn’t deny it. She had always been a person easily provoked to anger, especially when things didn’t go exactly as planned. And especially when it came to her first love.

Volleyball.

“Fucking idiots,” she screeched at no one in particular, reaching for the ball she had thrown with so much force that even she was impressed. Sadly, the rest of her ragtag team flinched at her sudden outburst, unacquainted with how she handled emotions. Except for Lysandra and Elide.

“Let it go, Ace,” Lys said from the ground, her back against the edge of the bench. “Have you seen the wrinkles on your forehead and mouth?”

“Don’t tease me right now,” she snapped, earning a groan from the green-eyed beauty. “I swear to the gods, whoever sabotaged our training time will be dead when I’m done with them.”

“It makes me wonder why you haven’t been arrested yet, considering the mouthful amount of threats you say everyday,” Elide, her sole roommate, added from the seat beside Lys.

The latter snickered and said, “Nice, El.”

“Stop it.” Aelin rubbed her palms across her face and screamed. “It’s just so unfair! I had the court reserved since last week!”

Three weeks before her second year in the University of Terrasen started, she had placed a reservation on the volleyball court for four hours. With the help of the captain of the women’s volleyball team, she had managed to organize a twelve-person group for a practice game in a matter of days. It wasn’t difficult to ask for a favor from the captain when said person was one of her best friends, Lysandra. All Aelin had to do was bat her own set of pretty turquoise eyes at her friend, and the deal was made.

For a clubless college student such as herself, inviting people for practice games could be quite tricky. She wasn’t a part of the official varsity team yet because of the restrictions of joining during the student’s first year. She wasn’t a member of the Volleyball Club either because of a bastard deciding based on his poor judgment. So, that pretty much left her with little to no connections.

The people Lysandra had invited were members of the men’s team and the club, unfamiliar faces to Aelin. So, the set-up was beneficial, mostly for her.

The tryouts were in two weeks, and since she was an incoming sophomore, joining the team was permitted. That didn’t stop her the year before, though. Even when she was a mere freshman, she still had gone to the gym to train with the women’s team. Thankfully, there were other freshmen like her, dedicated and headstrong, that decided it wasn’t too early for them to hone their skills on their own.

“But these things happen, Ae,” Elide reasoned, releasing her black hair from its tight plait.

Elide Lochan, her ever reliable childhood friend, had recently begun playing volleyball again due to Aelin and Lysandra’s insistence. During a training session, Aelin had instructed Elide to throw her a ball only to volley it back to Lysandra and so on. They continued the entire afternoon until Elide’s throws transformed into swift tosses, which Aelin used to spike straight into her other friend’s zone. As it turned out, her dark-eyed friend was a genius and a natural despite the years of not playing. Never had she experienced a more satisfying spike than she had when El tossed the ball to her. And never had she seen such happiness on her friend’s face.

The two of them started playing the sport when they were eight years old, under the supervision of Aelin’s father. Sadly, two years later, Elide got injured at school after accidentally falling down the stairs. The incident had caused a painful twisting of her ankle, creating microscopic breaks in the bones. El had to undergo surgery, physical therapy, and regular check-ups through the years. She had assuaged her friends’ concerns about her foot, but she was a force to be reckoned with. Her blatant love for volleyball was what convinced everyone, especially her parents, to let her play again.

Aelin had spent several months reintroducing Elide to the sport. It was a good thing that the latter seemed to enjoy herself while playing.

“It’s finally your first time playing in the gym, El,” she said. “I know you like the covered court more because of the open space and fresh air, but this gives you a more serious feel.”

“I know, and I did feel that. There are more opportunities for me to play here, though.” Elide straightened, curling her fingers around a water bottle. “And I do want to play official games with the two of you, so I’ll do my best to get into the team despite my lack of training and experience.”

Lysandra’s face crumpled, and then she hugged the other girl, smushing Elide’s face into her large bosom. “So cute, my little Ellie bear!”

An unrestrained smile split Aelin’s face. Lys was only a year older than the two of them, and yet, she treated them as if they were much younger siblings. Halting herself to join the merriment and their hug, she gnashed her teeth together and crossed her arms.

The awful mood had only visited her once they arrived at the gym and a lanky caretaker told her of their reservation time being cut short by an hour due to an overlooked schedule after them. There was a chance she had scared the poor boy for life after raging at him. It wasn’t his fault. He was only a carrier of the message.

She just despised it whenever her plans didn’t go smoothly.

Sounds of chortled laughter reached Aelin’s ears at that moment. She turned to the right, the sight of most of the men’s team almost made her explode with annoyance. Long-legged men with intimidating bodies filtered in the court. Some went straight to the lockers, while the others conversed with Aelin’s patched up team.

“I knew it,” she murmured. “Fucking knew it.”

The men’s volleyball team had stolen her practice time.

“If it isn’t  _ Arnaldo _ Galathynius. It’s nice to see you finally doing something worthwhile,” a deep voice said behind her.

She took a deep breath, preparing herself for the verbal fight that was sure to come.

“Unfortunately, you aren’t a delight to see,  _ Rolanda _ Whitethorn.” She faced the bane of her existence, the source of her unending rage. “Tell me, how do your teammates and clubmates stand your awful disposition?”

He raised one eyebrow and ran a hand through his silver hair. His startling pine-green eyes sparkled with taunt. “The same way I stand yours.”

For a year, Aelin had been in a head-to-head battle with the men’s team captain, Rowan Whitethorn. Not a volleyball battle, but that of wills and pride. Lysandra often commented that the two’s non-playful banters contributed to her migraine.

She and Whitethorn played lots of games. There was the sneering game, the rolling eyes game, and her favorite, the name game. In the name game, they called each other anything except their real ones with the intent to annoy. He had once called her  _ Antidisestablishmentarianism _ Galathynius, which ultimately, when she did a research that night, was one of the longest words in existence. She had to keep up, but there was no way she could remember  _ Representationalism _ Whitethorn unless she jot it down on her palm with a felt pen. This led her to the assumption that he had a notebook dedicated to names for her. Competitive bastard.

“I should’ve known it was you who cut our time short,” Aelin seethed, staring up at him with the promise of murder. 

Those neat eyebrows lifted in false surprise. “Me? You pass the blame on someone else when, clearly, this is due to your own negligence. Your fault for reserving late.”

“My negligence? I’ve had this court reserved for a week. I’ve had it even before I had a playing team.” Her hands tightened into fists. “Just admit it that you used your varsity powers and connections to shift your reservation an hour earlier.”

Lysandra appeared at her side, grabbing her arm. “Maybe we should stop fighting and look at how our teams are getting along.”

Of course they were getting along; they were all supposed to know each other. Those people were members of the club, and as far as she knew, the entire men’s team was a part of it as well. But before she could speak, Fenrys appeared at Rowan’s right.

“You should stop yapping, Rowan. Let’s start the warm up,” said the handsome, curly blond in a muscle tee. “Don’t worry, Aelin. Next time, I’ll invite others from our team to play with you again.”

Fenrys Moonbeam, a rather vivacious fellow, was one of the people Lysandra had invited to Aelin’s practice game. He was the libero of the men’s team with his unbelievable capability of saving the ball swiftly. It was the first time she got to play with him, and she was thoroughly impressed. Although, his howling every time he received the ball made her roll her eyes. No wonder he was nicknamed the ‘Terra Wolf.’

“You just turned my attention to you, Fenrys,” Rowan said in a menacing tone. The blond man cringed a little. “I thought I was clear when I said you shouldn’t expend your energy before official training hours. And seeing the company you keep, you might’ve done exactly that just by going along with  _ her _ poor performance.”

Aelin ignored the poisonous jab. “Thanks for today, Fenrys. And sure, I’d love to play with you guys. Only if Whitethorn is not invited.”

Fenrys guffawed while Rowan sneered at her. “You are such a dramatic person,” the latter observed.

Her attention snapped back to her greatest enemy. “If I were you, I’d be careful of the names you call me, Whitethorn.”

He snorted. “If  _ I  _ were you, my aim would be more accurate. It actually surprises me that in spite of all the training that you do, you still haven’t improved that much. And if  _ I _ were you, I’d start worrying about the women’s team not accepting me. Other universities would surely laugh at your sad attempt at being a wing spiker, unlike the greatness that your father was.”

That did it. She barely heard Lysandra’s cries and Fenrys’s swearing. Her hatred for Rowan Whitethorn only increased tenfold. Her body almost tingled at the all-consuming fury his words brought. How dare he call her father great in the past tense? How dare he provoke her using the most important person in her life?

Aelin could take any insult and slander against her, would gladly take those into the cradle of her arms. But once her father had been mentioned, retribution was final. She had always known Rowan Whitethorn would be a dead man.

Seeing red like an emergency light flashing, her hands balled into fists. The skin over her knuckles stretched until they were bleached white. He was several steps away from her, but if she leaped with all her might, she could catch him unaware of the weapon that was her hands. She’d scratch and beat him into a pulp. Although there was a high possibility of being unable to injure him because of his threatening build, she’d still attempt to do it.

She steadied herself before she could jump at him with curled fingers. But prior to her shrieking a litany of curses, a sharp and deafening whistling sound echoed through the gym, making her halt for a moment.

Coach Gavriel of the men’s volleyball team appeared like an apparition of sorts. His tawny gaze traveled over the rest of his team until it landed on Aelin and Rowan. His lips transformed into an amused smile, obviously enjoying the display in front of him. Despite its frequency, the coach was still not used to the showdown between the two.

Aelin instantly calmed down at the sight of her uncle, which reminded her of her cousin, Aedion. Both flaunted their shoulder-length golden hair and muscled but lithe bodies. But their appearance was where their similarities ended. Aedion was a raging fire that consumed everything in its wake, while Gavriel was the calm sea before the storm struck it into chaos.

“You’ll do great at the tryouts, sweetie.” Her Uncle Gav patted her shoulder with all the affection of a father. He might be the most recent addition to Aelin’s family, five years since they had first met, but he never failed to make her feel cared for. “I’m really excited for new kids to join. I am growing sick of these losers,” he added, pointing at Rowan and Fenrys.

“What a mean coach,” Fenrys muttered under his breath.

The mean coach heard it because he passed the younger blond a flat look. “The team is composed of mostly seniors. And hopefully— _ I’m looking at you Fenrys _ —hopefully, you boys will all graduate. That leads me to a few, barely court-broken members.”

“I’m gonna study well this year, coach,” Fenrys informed. “Rowan has already promised to tutor me.”

“I did not promise that,” Whitethorn said.

“Well, since I just said it aloud, it must be true.”

“Remind me again why I tolerate you all,” her uncle sighed, “Anyway, I am confident you’ll get in the team, Aelin.”

Whitethorn had the audacity to snort, having lots of fun at her expense.

He had always belittled her. From the moment they met, he had been broody, vicious, and spiteful, which was a shame because a nicer personality would enhance his handsomeness. According to Lysandra, the guy was mostly quiet, but when with Aelin, he bared deadly fangs. She imagined him keeping a dictionary-thick journal full of written insults saved just for her.

Not that she imagined him that often. Of course not.

Aelin could distinctly remember the first time she and Rowan Whitethorn had met.

Her wide-eyed, eighteen-year-old self was more than ecstatic to get into the University of Terrasen, where her parents had started their love story. It was also the place where her father’s prowess in volleyball was noticed. It was where the legend of Rhoe Galathynius began.

At that time, Lysandra, already in her second year in the school, had invited her to join UTerra’s Volleyball Club, where the former was a member herself. The club was open to all kinds of people who wanted to learn and play volleyball. It didn’t matter if you were a beginner or you’d been tossing balls as soon as you were born; One only had to be an enthusiast or a lover of the game. And because Aelin still couldn’t be a part of the varsity team yet, she had decided to submit an application to her friend’s club.

_ During the second week of classes (also known as the club week), she stepped foot on the east wing of the university for the very first time and knocked on Room 217, holding on to a club application form like a lifeline. She didn’t know if her father was once a member. He couldn’t exactly tell her about his college years in detail because of his current condition, but Aelin was determined to enter anything related to volleyball. _

_ She pushed the wooden door and took a peek at the closed space. The studio type room was only a handful of feet larger than her and Elide’s dormitory room. To her left, rows of trophies stood proud on shelves with sliding glass doors. Two iron racks carried organized volleyball equipment, from ball pumps to spare nets to ankle braces. A long meeting table spanned the entirety of the room’s left side, monoblock chairs stacked at one end. To her right, a massive white board was mounted on the wall, which showed an ongoing soccer game with the help of the projector hanging from the ceiling. It was a peculiar scene because she had never seen volleyball players spend time watching another sport’s game. Across the makeshift screen, a black leather couch screamed money. _

_ From their comfortable position on the seat, three men stared at her in question. _

_ The one in the middle was the club president Lysandra had told her about. The man was easy to distinguish because of his pale silver hair, tanned skin, green eyes, and rugged but gorgeous face. For a second, Aelin couldn’t see the other two beside him as she was too dumbstruck by his beauty. At least until he neared her, took the form from her hand and said, “Your application is rejected.” _

_ Her confused gaze landed on the two guys with Rowan Whitethorn—Fenrys Moonbeam and a scary one called Lorcan Salvaterre, who exchanged worried glances. _

_ Aelin’s mouth worked. “W-Why? What did I do? Did I fill up the form wrong?” _

_ “No. You did it perfectly, Miss Galathynius,” the president said. “It’s simply you we cannot accept.” _

_ “Is this a prank? I don’t get it.” _

_ He returned the sheet of paper and crossed his arms. “I have seen you play, Miss Galathynius, when UTerra scouts visited Rifthold High in Adarlan. I also witnessed your little skirmish with a teammate. Even though some people consider you a genius of the sport, the club cannot accept such actions from a renowned young athlete.” _

_ The blood in her veins turned ice cold. “You’re rejecting me because of something I’ve done in the past? Are you fucking kidding me?” _

_ “I do not appreciate being cussed at.” His eyes turned into shards of bottle glass. _

_ “Then make it make sense!” _

_ “You are boastful and uncooperative—traits that endanger a team. A school, even. Do you deny it?” _

_ She couldn’t retort because those were the exact words her former teammates had uttered, had complained against her. _

_ “I am sorry but we are not going to accept this application.” _

_ Elide had called Lysandra as soon as Aelin burst into tears on their bed, panicking at the sight of her childhood friend bawling. She rarely cried, and the last time she did was when her father met that horrible accident that almost claimed his life. Rowan Whitethorn’s words that day weren’t really that hurtful. They did, however, take her back to a time when she was shunned by her teammates as they all but ganged up on her. His words had taken her back to one of lowest points in her life. _

_ Lysandra had apologized to her for urging her to join. Her friend had even talked to her club president about it, but to no avail. He did say that maybe once he saw her improvement, in both sport and behavior, he could reconsider. But if he did eventually accept her, she wouldn’t bind herself into an organization that judged their future members. _

_ Why was he the club president  _ and _ the captain of the men’s volleyball team anyway? His lack of redeeming qualities was blatant enough. _

_ “Spite fuels me anyway,” she had said to Elide and Lysandra. _

She lost the club, but she gained an enemy. And she hated that Rowan Whitethorn with blinding passion. She hated the way he had spoken to her, hated the way he had looked at her. As if she were trash to be easily dismissed, thrown, and forgotten.

A year later and he still looked at her the same way. As if she weren’t worthy of anything she had. As if she didn’t deserve every merit she received. As if she were nothing.

Coach Gavriel’s whistle slapped her back to the present. Her temporary team had dispersed already, leaving her and her two friends. The men’s team had started their drills, but she could feel Whitethorn’s eyes on her.

She glanced back, putting spoonfuls of poison in her stare. To her unending irritation, the bastard had the nerve to smirk at her. Her jaw tightened as she clenched her teeth enough to hurt.

She’d destroy him. Not literally. At least, not yet. But she’d destroy him by making him eat his words until he slid down to the floor in regret. She wasn’t the girl she was in high school. Nor was she the person a year ago.

In all honesty, Aelin didn’t want to be affiliated with that stupid club anymore. Not after her first encounter with him. She only wanted him begging for forgiveness for his biting words. She wanted him begging for her to join again.

And beg her he would. 


	2. Chapter 2

Two days before volleyball tryouts, Aelin woke up at six in the morning for her daily exercise. Her workout routine usually consisted of running several laps around the school oval and strength training with weights. However, because of the nearing event, she had recently been focusing more on her endurance and lightning speed on the court. After a brisk walk, she’d head to the gym to start her solitary training.

Sitting on a tiny circular table by the kitchen, she inhaled a bowl of oats and a medium sized banana for breakfast. Her favorite frosted cereal had ran out yesterday, resulting in a less sugary morning for her. She figured it was all right, since she probably had too much sweets last night during her girls’ night with Elide and Lysandra.

Lys had arrived in their room a little after dinner, bearing chocolate bars and chips. Her dark brown hair swished from one side to the other as she danced and jumped up and down the pair’s Eyllwe-made carpet. She had also suggested buying beer from the convenience store, which was strongly opposed by Aelin.

On a normal day, Aelin would agree and drink to her heart’s content until her face and the toilet seat were one. Unfortunately, the alcohol would have to wait until after the tryouts. She didn’t want to spend mornings hungover instead of sweaty after practice.

The three of them had pulled the two mattresses into the hardwood floor and placed them together, side by side. Elide turned their spare bed sheets into a teepee-like structure using clothespins and craft ropes. Inside their little haven, they gorged themselves on unhealthy food and pretty actors on the laptop screen. They had decided to spend the night binge watching the live action series of Aelin’s favorite fantasy books where a princess turned assassin ended up being a queen of a forgotten kingdom. Everything was good until the main character’s love interest appeared, and he pretty much reminded her of...Whitethorn. She had scowled at the actor’s handsome face every time he popped up.

She glanced up from her food and studied her snoozing friends. Elide was tucked under a thick blanket in a fetal position, while Lys was sprawled over the mattress like a sacrifice to the gods, snoring loudly. It was a wonder how El remained asleep despite the noise.

Their dormitory room was a studio-type with a bathroom, a mini kitchen, and two beds on opposite ends. The sun had just risen, barely touching their wall window with its rays. Aelin turned on the lights, evoking sharp curses from Lysandra. Her friend instantly covered her face with a pillow. Lys was, in no way, a morning person, which was disadvantageous because volleyball meets with other schools usually entailed waking up early to travel. For the past year, Aelin had been the one spurring the other into action, knocking at Lys’s dorm room until she opened the door.

Avoiding the urge to laugh, she stashed extra clothes and a humongous water jug into a duffel bag. It was going to be another exhausting day ahead.

After slipping her shoes on, she stepped out into the frigid Terrasen air. The state of Adarlan didn’t have the headache-inducing heat of Wendlyn or the Southern Continent, and neither did they have the biting cold of her birthplace. When she and her father returned to the city of Orynth, she barely noticed the drop in temperature, as she was primarily occupied with concern over his condition. That changed over the days, though. Her normal attire of loose shirts and pants turned into jackets over sweaters and thermals.

She got acclimated eventually. Now, wearing nothing but jersey shorts and a dri fit shirt before the sun had even kissed the trees didn’t bother her anymore.

Aelin jogged around the university campus, changing her pace to a fast walk because of her bag swaying uncontrollably against her hip. She was late to realize she should’ve placed it in a more secure location before moving on with her warm-up.

The narrow concrete pathwalk she took gradually widened until the front parking lot of the gymnasium welcomed her. Two cars were parked alongside each other—the silver SUV was her Uncle Gav’s, while the other was owned by a Sports Science professor. It didn’t surprise her that Gavriel was already here, no doubt sleeping peacefully in the faculty office.

The volleyball gymnasium was about three stories high with a curved roof. On opposite ends of it, offices and equipment rooms were located. Tempered glass panels were installed high up on the walls, such that the sunlight gracing the structure’s interior did not cross paths with the athlete and blind them. Double hung windows circled the second floor, allowing the soft breeze to flow inside. Unlike the larger gymnasium of the university, which housed UTerra’s basketball team, rows of bleachers were absent from her gym. Only benches littered around. This was where sports classes were held.

“Aelin! Over here!”

She turned to see Lysandra’s roommate, Nesryn Faliq, waving at her from the locker room door.

The raven-haired girl, like her, hailed from another high school in Rifthold. The two of them had actually met during an inter-school competition, when Aelin was a junior and the other was a senior like Lys. Nesryn was a middle blocker, her skills of quickly responding to the ball simply incomparable. She wasn’t as tall as the others on the women’s team, but the girl could surely jump, as if her soles had built-in springs.

“You’re here early,” Aelin said, clutching the sling of her bag.

Nesryn grinned. “Well, when the captain still slumbers at eight in the morning, the assistant captain’s job is to make sure the team doesn’t slack off.”

“How responsible,” she commented. “Makes me wonder why Lys is the team captain.”

The other girl laughed. “Lys might not be there for early morning practice, but she’s one heck of a leader.”

Truth be told, Aelin hadn’t been surprised when Coach Maeve appointed the position to Lysandra, even though her friend was still an incoming college junior. During their high school years in Rifthold High, she had been the perfect candidate for captain—determined, tactical, and appreciative of her members. Too bad it had been given to another teammate, a person whom Aelin didn’t think highly of.

“Anyway, where is she?” Nesryn prodded. “She invited me last night to your room, but I already made plans with Sartaq.”

“She told me that if I woke her up this morning, she’d actually bite me. She makes good on promises. I wouldn’t risk it.”

That earned a nod and chuckle from Lys’s roommate.

Aelin shoved her bag inside an empty locker slot and slammed the door shut. In the middle of the court, the women’s team assembled, along with familiar non-members who aimed to become part of their family. Shameful as it was, Aelin couldn’t remember most of their names.

They started off the training with regular warm-ups and drills that burned her arms and legs. During the summer break, she only did one man drills because Lysandra went to Caraverre to visit her family and Elide came back to Perranth. All Aelin did was hang out at her father’s room and read to him stories of dragons and vampires and fated romance. She, and the doctors, hadn’t been sure if Rhoe Galathynius could hear as he lay peacefully on the bed. Even so, she avoided the smutty novels she enjoyed alone.

Exhilaration crashed through her as she realized how much she missed the group drills, the swift sweep of feet, and the non-stop bounce of balls against forearms.

The girls separated into two lineups, with Aelin and Nesryn as groupmates. The practice match began under Assistant Coach Emrys’s careful watch. The man seemed older than Coach Maeve, seemed equipped with experiences in the sport, but he didn’t have the coach’s firm technique in instructing her players. Emrys often gave the girls some snacks he and his husband made at home, easily putting him in Aelin’s list of favorite people.

After continuous sets and buckets of sweat, they split up for lunch break. Nesryn invited her to have lunch with her and her other teammates, but Aelin wasn’t really feeling companionable. Instead of joining them, she took a sharp turn and headed toward the small store outside. She bought a pair of protein bars and sat at an upright log against the gym.

With a strip of wall between her and the shower room, she overheard some of the girls invested in a conversation.

“Coach Em said we’ll be discussing strategies this afternoon instead of continuing the game.”

“What’s the reason?”

“The men’s team will be practicing here, too.”

“Too bad for our training, but really good for our eyes.” The speaker giggled.

“Agreed. They’re all so pretty that it’s actually unfair. I mean, look at Fenrys! Such a babe!”

Aelin fought the need to roll her eyes.

“Lorcan, too! He’s quite scary, but I bet he’s really kinky in bed.”

“If you ask me, I’d guess the captain is the real wild one. I think he’s the one you call ‘daddy’ in the bedroom.”

“Really? Rowan Whitethorn? He’s really gorgeous but he looks so stern and quiet.”

“Exactly! The quiet ones usually are those who have a riding crop or blindfold kink. I totally don’t mind being the one at the end of it, though.”

Despite eating so little, Aelin nearly threw up at the sudden change in topic. Her nose scrunched in disgust. The girls continued laughing, but she already had enough. Hearing it was one thing; she didn’t want the imagery to invade her brain.

Although, hating somebody didn’t imply being appalled at their physical appearance. She surely wasn’t when it came to Whitethorn. She called him names and fought tooth and nail with him, but underneath it all, she appreciated the art that was his face… and body.

Was it true, though? What those girls said. Did Whitethorn truly have a penchant for blindfolds and riding crops and whatnots? Interesting.

More than an hour after lunch, the men’s volleyball team began filling up the benches with their already sweat-clad bodies. Coach Gavriel usually required his team to run several laps around the oval to get them into gear.

Aelin straightened from her stance against a wall, clutching the book she had been reading. It was a mass market paperback, thus having a smaller size than the rest of her collection. But it was a chunky book, about three fingers in thickness. She wouldn’t be finishing it anytime soon.

“Volleyball practice and a great read,” she sighed, “It’s been a good day.”

And because the universe despised her so much, Whitethorn appeared, wearing volleyball shorts and a black fitted shirt. He halted beside her.

“Ah. It’s _Arachnid_ Galathynius,” he said with mirth.

She shot him a flat look. “Hello to you too, _Riding Crop_ Whitethorn.”

His startling eyes narrowed at her as he crossed his arms. “Riding cr—Are you high?”

“Don’t be stupid. I’ve never been high.” She tugged her hair tie off, fluffing out the golden strands. “And even if I were, I’m not dumb enough to train under the influence.”

When he didn’t say anything, she glanced up, catching his gaze on her hair. Her mouth twisted down to a frown. But he seemed to have recovered because he quickly looked away.

“Shocker.” To his teammates, he yelled, “Warm-up, drills, and then practice games! Move, move, move!”

Fenrys, seeing the two of them together, waved excitedly, while Lorcan shook his head. The latter instructed the other guys to rally up immediately.

“Tyrant,” she muttered under her breath. “How about you? Are you just gonna stand here, an annoying presence lurking?”

“I’m done with warm-ups. Have been here for a while. You just didn’t notice me because of that book you have your nose in.”

“I believe I chose not to.” That was a lie. She truly did not see him, but she’d rather be gutted than admit that. They’d both die first before outgrowing their ego games.

They watched the guys side by side for several minutes. As she drank water, Aelin couldn’t fathom why he remained beside her. She had always assumed her presence was more of a thorny bush or icky leech to Whitethorn. Wouldn’t one strive hard to avoid the person they hated so much? She really couldn’t read him, nor did she want to anyway.

“In line with that, I watched you play, too.” He sighed dramatically. “As usual, your normal spikes are superb, but nothing new. If you wish to win against another school’s team, work on your surprise.”

“I’m afraid I didn’t ask for an opinion,” she snapped back. “Especially not from the likes of _you_.”

He fully faced her, arms still crossed over a firm chest. “That was unsolicited advice, yes. But one that would greatly benefit you in the long run, Galathynius.”

“I’m finding it hard to believe that you’d be generous enough to offer me even the slightest amount of aid.”

He chuckled deeply. “The amount of pride you have astounds me.”

“And yours seems so fragile that once I prick it with the tiniest needle, you bare your fangs at me and attack.”

“Tiniest needle? You’re hardly harmless.”

“I agree, and I bite just as hard.” She was huffing now, the warmth on her neck creeping upward. His jaw was clenched that the muscle popped, but she didn’t fail to recognize the darkening of his eyes. And how his gaze shifted downward, to her mouth.

A chill, that wasn’t the least bit uncomfortable, traveled through her.

Cutting their eye contact short, she shifted her attention to the men’s team in the middle of their second drill. Their legs muscles flexed and bulged as they dashed to and fro the ends of the court.

“If you aren’t too occupied, dear sir,” she drawled. “Might you tell me what I have done wrong during the training. In detail.”

The statement took him aback because he stared openly at her with his trademark expressionless face. Contrary to what he believed, Aelin was keen on suggestions of improving her skills. She merely did not want his assistance, not when he offered it while sporting an insincere half grin.

“We’ll be spending the rest of the day here pointing out your mistakes, then.” He walked to the nearest bench and pulled out a piece of clothing from his bag. To her surprise, Whitethorn grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it off, revealing tan skin and tightly rolled abs. She only heard the rumor, but it was correct. Swirls of black ink traversed the left side of his ribs down to the waistband of his shorts. The tattoo seemed to travel further than what her eyes could see. Interes—No, not interesting at all.

“Plotting my downfall, Galathynius? Or are you actually checking me out?”

She studied him closely. He was enjoying this, enjoying that he caught her ogling at him. The bastard.

“I’d rather be with a conventionally unattractive man who doesn’t belittle every single thing I do, than a heartbreakingly handsome _boy_ whose condescending tone is unparalleled. I think it’s quite clear which of them you are.”

She would’ve won with that little speech if it wasn’t for him saying, “So, you think I’m heartbreakingly handsome.”

She almost bashed her head in with her thick book. “ _That’s_ what you gleaned from what I’ve said? Unbelievable.”

He slipped on a green volleyball jersey—the uniform of the UTerra Stags—with the number 16 printed below the university seal. His last name, along with the same number, was indicated at the back.

“I should celebrate this day,” he said, smoothing his pale hair. “The great _Allan_ Galathynius considers me heartbreakingly handsome.”

“You go to hell.”

“I’d rather not because you’ll be there, too.”

She groaned. “Fuck off, Whitethorn. I deliver a mean punch. Do not tempt me.”

“You can deliver a mean punch, but you can’t do a proper quick attack?” He scoffed, eyeing her. His scrutinizing gaze caused her to ball her fists.

“I can do quick attacks!” Those were her favorite moves. Her hand quivered with glee every time she hit the ball straight onto the opponent’s court. 

"Yeah, you can. But your form varies every time. It’s much better to set specific forms for different kinds of attack. You lack organization.”

“Organization isn’t found in games,” she replied.

“That’s often true,” he said. “It’s easy to lose structure during a match, but it isn’t impossible. But if you avoid it, wouldn’t that mean you don’t think during the match or that you hit so carelessly without thought? And what Terrasen needs is a player that thinks, a team that thinks. You can’t just hit the ball without thinking where you aim it. There has to be a thought process.”

“And I suppose you’re the best person with organizational skills, then?”

“Of course.” He said it without a hint of pride, as if it were common knowledge. “You should watch me play next time, so you can learn. And not run away with your tail tucked between your legs.”

“Oh, fuck o—”

“What is it this time?” Lysandra muttered, walking toward them while rubbing her temple. “What must I offer to the gods just to make you two get along? My headaches worsen every time I hear the two of you fight.”

The women’s team captain arrived with her backpack, her dark hair in disarray.

“Whitethorn is done mocking me, anyway.” Facing him, Aelin said, “It was nice chatting with you, except not really.”

Some of the girls had returned from their lunch, heading up the stairs to one of the sports rooms for the afternoon strategy discussion. Emrys would arrive shortly, too.

She dragged Lysandra to an empty bench and sat on it, looking up at her friend accusingly. “You’re late.”

Lysandra shrugged. “I’ve been scolded by Nesryn already… What were you and Rowan fighting about?”

“He was pointing out my faults, as usual.”

“Is that so bad, Ace? That he’s telling you something you should improve on?” Her friend stared at her earnestly. “Rowan is a really, _really_ good captain and player. He knows what he’s doing.”

She sighed. “I know he’s good at what he does. It’s-It’s how he speaks to me that’s the problem. He reprimands me as if he were a king and I am a mere subject.”

“Fine, fine.” Lys waved her hand, dismissing their conversation. “That’s between you and him, anyway… Shall we go upstairs?”

Before she could even turn to the direction of the other side of the court, her eyes locked with Whitethorn’s. She hoped he saw the words there.

 _I’ll show you_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to make Erilea their country and Adarlan, Terrasen and etc as states (initially, they were provinces but i settled on states instead). Also, UTerra bothers me. It kinda reminds me of uterus lol
> 
> Anyway, I might not be able to do some writing next week because of the ACOSF release. I was really neutral about Nesta during ACOTAR, but I have a feeling she'll be my new favorite this time around.


	3. Chapter 3

The cold breeze greeted her as soon as she stepped out of her second hand car, into the open area of the Orynth Medical Center parking lot. In spite of her thick turtleneck, her skin felt the unwelcome chill. The sensation wasn’t exactly unfamiliar. Because every time she visited the hospital, a heavy foot made of dread seemed to crush her heart into indiscernible pieces. As though it wasn’t already broken.

Clutching her bag to the side, she sauntered up the steps to the establishment’s glass doors. The guard, a young man called Ress, grinned at her as she entered. Due to her frequent visits, the hospital employees seemed to had memorized her schedule. She, in turn, had learned most of their names.

“Hi, Sorscha,” she greeted one of the nurses at the reception.

The brunette’s hazel eyes twinkled when she saw Aelin. “Morning! How have you been?”

“It’s all good. Is Doctor Hafiza here already?”

“I haven’t seen her yet.” She frowned. “But maybe I just didn’t notice her. You should check in with Yrene upstairs.”

“I’ll do that. Thank you!”

Aelin climbed up the flight of stairs, all the while ignoring the escalating feeling of grief and loneliness. For years, she had taken the long and wearying journey up to her father’s hospital suite. When they were still in Adarlan, Rhoe Galathynius was stationed at the eleventh floor. Her elevator rides back then weren’t as fun as when she was a kid, imagining herself flying up in the sky and one with those white-tailed hawks she saw on television.

She reached the third floor, breaking sweat already. The small burn in her legs was a necessity today, anyway.

A horseshoe-shaped counter welcomed her. A flat screen, mounted on the wall, played the morning’s news episode. A weatherman pointed at different temperatures across Erilea. There was nothing new about Terrasen, though. It had always been cold in her beloved state.

“You’re early today,” a familiar voice said. 

Yrene Towers, one of the nurses in charge of her father, halted beside a glass door, carrying folded bed sheets and blankets. Her golden brown mane was twisted in a low bun, a few tendrils curling around her cheeks and neck.

“Yrene, hi! I’m supposed to be attending volleyball tryouts later,” she informed the young woman. “I will be returning this afternoon.”

“That’s good! The others wanted me to invite you to a small pizza party this evening. It’s Nurse Eretia’s final day here. She’ll be moving back to Antica soon.”

She blinked. Her mind found it difficult giving face to Nurse Eretia. Was she the one always by Doctor Hafiza’s side? “I’ll try to come tonight.”

“All right. Do you like some breakfast? Some of the nurses are eating in the lunchroom right now.”

“No thanks. I already ate a few. Though, I might drop by for some coffee.”

The employees had been so accustomed to her visits that they treated her as one of their own. She assumed they were being nice to her because they pitied her and the misfortune life had left on her doorstep. And maybe at first it was what drove them to befriend her. But now, she was certain they enjoyed her company as well. The doctors and nurses had turned into her older brothers and sisters. The thought created a fuzzy feeling in her chest.

The pretty nurse nodded, smiling gently. Her eyes swung by the closed door of Rhoe Galathynius’s room. “All is well, Aelin. He is still stable, and Doctor Cesme told me she’ll be meeting you again in two weeks.”

“Thanks, Yrene. I’ll find you before I leave.”

“Gotcha. And good luck on your tryouts!”

After thanking her friend, Aelin walked to her father’s suite and pressed a hand on the door. She took a few shallow breaths before entering.

Seeing her father lay limp and unconscious on the medical bed still wrenched her heart in two and pricked her eyes until tears formed. His pale face and arms were gaunt and frail. His brown hair, peppered with white, was brushed away from his face, which was clean shaven. The machine beside him beeped every now and then, signifying a life on hold. A life that wasn’t really living. A life one frightening step closer to the deep spiral of death.

Rhoe Galathynius, before the accident, was pepper and sunflowers. Now, he was salt and dried rose petals.

“Hey, Daddy. I’m back,” she said cheerfully, placing her things on a straight couch against the wall.

As expected, there was no answer. His eyelids didn’t even twitch.

She pulled a chair closer to his bed and plopped on it, reaching out to clasp their hands. “I’m joining the volleyball team today, Daddy, so you should wish me good luck. I’ll be leaving in a couple of hours, but I’ll be back as soon as I’m done, okay? I had breakfast already. And don’t worry. I might get some coffee at the canteen...Don’t you dare tell me I’m still too young for coffee. I’m already nineteen, remember?”

This was routine for her as well. Every time she visited, she talked to him endlessly. It didn’t matter if it was a one-sided conversation. She loved hearing herself talk; her dad did, too. She spent her weekends at the hospital. Sometimes she did homework using the couch as a table. Sometimes she just read to him all day long. 

“Oh, and before I forget.” She clambered out of her seat and grabbed the bulky spring notebook she brought. “I finished another. Don’t laugh at my writing, okay? I’m a good writer but this is more of a diary, so expect so much angst and feelings. You might even cringe. Anyway, I’m putting it inside the box underneath your bed.”

When she was younger, she had never failed to tell her father everything that happened in school. She had talked and talked while he listened, amusement striking his handsome face. He had always been busy with volleyball practice and matches across Erilea and other countries, but he made sure to spend time with his only daughter. Aelin never realized how important their little bonding time was. Now, she desperately wished for those times, where he would laugh at something embarrassing she did and she’d blush.

“You got that from your mother,” he’d say, the edges of his eyes crinkling.

Days after his accident, she had decided to jot down the details of her day. She told him everything—from her first official volleyball game in high school to her first boyfriend to that final and horrible incident before she graduated. She bared everything to her father until the few scraps of paper turned into pads and notebooks. The cardboard box under her father’s bed carried almost eighty notebooks filled with her handwriting.

“I suggest that you wake up immediately, Daddy, because you have a lot of journal entries to sweep through,” she said. “And because… because I miss you very much.”

All the terror and the helplessness she felt from five years ago crashed into her, causing her to tightly shut her eyes. How much longer? How much longer would her father be in this state? How much longer would she remain alone?

She wasn’t alone; she knew that. She had Aedion and Uncle Gav and Lysandra and Elide, even grumpy Great-Uncle Weylan, but her loneliness still held her in a fist. All of them had their own families and their dreams, and all she had was the unresponsive shell of her father and his dream that had somehow passed on to her. None of them could understand what she faced everyday: the fear, the uncertainty of her father’s life. And every single day, she could feel the hope gradually crumbling.

A tear slipped free, and she quickly wiped it away with her sleeve.

If only somebody could reassure her that everything would be alright.

Two hours later, she bid her father goodbye and kissed him on the forehead. The clean corridors bustled with doctors, nurses, and visitors. A toddler passed by with his chubby little hand clutched by his mother. She smiled at the sight. She and her father used to do that, too. She’d tug his hand whenever she wanted to be placed on his shoulders, and then, her mom would kiss her cheek before lifting her up to her father’s arms. Aelin blew a sigh.

After she informed Yrene of her departure, she headed straight to her car and drove back to campus.

The university’s thirty minute distance from the hospital brought her a certain amount of reassurance. The thought of coming to her father’s aid as quickly as possible dispeled some of her fears.

Arriving earlier than expected, she pulled up at the gym’s parking lot, which was more crowded compared to regular training days. According to Lysandra, both teams gained traction in the inter-collegiate level through the years. Her friend had said that UTerra’s status as a powerhouse was attributable to the two coaches from Doranelle. Coach Maeve and Coach Gavriel raised their teams from the dry and infertile ground. Now, Aelin couldn’t help but feel grateful for the opportunity. She just wished her father could witness her thriving in his alma mater.

“Hey,” she said, stopping between Lysandra and Elide, who watched the ongoing tryouts for the men’s team.

Lys appraised her outfit before saying, “That better be not what you’re gonna wear during ball passes.”

“Of course not. I’m gonna change into a ball gown.”

Her friend simply nudged an elbow against Aelin’s ribs.

“There is, unexpectedly, a lot of people here,” El murmured.

“Yup,” Lys confirmed. “I knew posting a video of the guys playing half-naked would do the trick.”

El’s dark eyes widened with stark interest. “I didn’t know that. When was this?”

“Just last week. You should’ve seen Aelin clicking the replay button a dozen times.”

“I was studying their set,” Aelin defended herself.

“Mm-hmm. Keep telling yourself that.”

Elide faced her. “How is your dad?”

She sighed. “Same old, same old.”

Those words left her lips automatically, as if it were a habit. She supposed it was. Her tongue was used to the words that hammered ease and worry into her. Ease that her father still lived; Worry that he’d never open his eyes again.

Lys put one arm around her shoulder and pulled her in. “It’ll be better, Ace. It’ll all be... But only if you change into proper attire. Denim pants can chafe your thighs once you begin running around the court. Believe me, it’s not a great feeling.”

For the first time today, she laughed freely. “Very well, Cap.”

Several steps away from the hall of rooms of the ground level, a registration table was being manned by Fenrys, his hands behind his head and feet perched on another chair.

“ _ Allan _ Galathynius!” he cried when he saw her approaching.

“Don’t tell me Whitethorn is rubbing off on you,” she said.

He grinned mischievously. “No but there certainly are other things I’d like rubbing on me.”

She barked a laugh in return. Fenrys’s presence had become a ray of sunshine every time they saw each other. Their meetings weren’t frequent, which happened when her training time coincided with the men’s team’s. And even then, she’d try hard not to place herself under their scrutiny. She assumed Whitethorn already spewed out negative comments about her to his team. She’d rather take herself out of that spotlight.

Although, it was difficult to deny Fenrys of the attention he wanted as he waved at her with such exhausting energy. She always found herself waving back, stopping only when her eyes met Whitethorn’s blazing green ones. By then, an ugly frown had been painted on her mouth, and she’d resume whatever it was she was doing on her own. 

“Why aren’t you with your team?” she asked him, shifting her gaze to the group of people on both sides of the net. Those attempting to join one of Erilea’s greatest college teams were split into two groups. Fenrys’s teammates instructed the aspiring new Stags.

“Coach Gav said it’s better if I stayed here. Wouldn’t want any of those people distracted,” he drawled.

She leveled a flat look at him, familiar with his charm and vanity. “You’ve been benched, haven’t you?”

“Don’t you know me too well, little missy. I’ll have you know, I am a respected senior around these parts.” He pointed a finger at her.

Her lips curled upward. “You’ve been caught making out with someone in the locker room,” she guessed. “Or perhaps doing the nasty.”

His scowl proved that she hit the mark. “Busybody. You’re just like Rowan.”

She snorted, grabbed a pen from him, and scribbled her name on a sheet of paper attached to a clipboard. Twenty-one girls had registered before her. She scanned those names, familiar with a few, and waved goodbye at him.

Aelin locked herself in the farthest cubicle inside the comfort room and stripped down. She was in the middle of stepping into her shorts when the voices of new arrivals stopped her.

“Was that Aelin Galathynius?”

“Yep. She doesn’t look anything special.”

The girls giggled. “That’s because she’s not. I bet she’s going to get in because of her famous dad.”

“I’m friends with a girl from Rifthold High, and she told me they often called her The Queen or The Wildfire or something along those lines.”

“Why? Is she that good?”

“Oh, no. It’s not a compliment. She’s like a dictator to her teammates, ordering them around. Something like that. She’s known for her eruptive temper, too. They hated her there.”

“So, that’s why she’s here? They didn’t want her as a player for Adarlan University?”

“That’s what I’ve been told.”

That last part was the only thing untrue in everything the girl had said. They needed to move her father to Terrasen because his doctor back in Adarlan suggested he be transferred under Doctor Hafiza Cesme’s care.

The decision had terrified her. She was a teenager, still coping up with a tragedy, and they expected her to choose between staying in Adarlan or returning to Terrasen. Thankfully, she had Aedion, Uncle Gavriel, and Great-Uncle Weylan, who helped her with everything. After reaching a conclusion that her father would do better with Terrasen’s state of the art facilities, they moved back. The inter-hospital transfer had nearly given her a heart attack. She had waited restlessly at the Orynth Medical Center for her father to arrive by helicopter. Land travel was riskier because it would take hours before the ambulance could reach her city, so they opted for air travel.

Since they would be staying at Terrasen for the unforeseeable future, she abandoned her accepted status at the Adarlan University, and tried to enter the University of Terrasen despite her late application. Initially, it had been denied, but for some reason, she got in. Without a doubt, her Uncle Gav had something to do with it, probably swooning the college dean with his smooth words and handsome face.

She didn’t really care where she’d spend the rest of her life, as long as her father was with her. Wherever he went, she’d go.

Retreating footsteps informed her that the girls were gone. She relaxed against the door, steadying her breath. Why did she always end up eavesdropping on conversations? Back in high school, it was also how she learned of her teammates’ antagonizing feelings toward her.

She dressed as fast as she could, trying not to give her thoughts a chance to creep up on her. In front of the mirror, she splashed her face with water, rubbing her palms across her cheeks. Her hair was a tangled mess, and her lips were pale. She tightly closed her eyes, erasing the overwhelming memories. It was a futile attempt; still, she did it.

With her bag sling looped around her shoulder, she pulled the door and rushed outside with her gaze on the ground. She hadn’t reached far when she bumped into a wall of muscle, recoiling at the impact. She would’ve landed on her ass if the person she plowed into didn’t clutch her arm, halting her fall.

“What? Nobody taught you how to apologize?”

She looked up and beheld Rowan Whitethorn glowering before her.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, turning her attention back to the floor.

Not wanting to hear his retort, she inched away from him and continued to where her friends stood. Perhaps he was momentarily surprised with her passive reaction to him just now, because it took him a few seconds before calling her.

“Galathynius!”

She did not look back.

“Aelin!”

She still did not look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished ACOSF on wednesday, and I badly need somebody to talk to about it. PLEASE DON'T COMMENT SPOILERS OUT OF RESPECT FOR THOSE WHO HAVEN'T READ IT YET. But you can send me a message if you want to discuss! (i really dont know if you can send a private message here in ao3 sksksksks)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: panic attack

Aelin, still breathless from the warm-up jog around the court, crossed her arms on her chest as she listened to Lysandra explain the flow of their tryouts.

The captain of the women’s team was a natural when it came to public speaking. Perhaps a product of being a communication arts major.

“Passes will be done by pairs. Serve-Receive will also be done with the partner of your choice. Then, forward and back movement by the net will be done in two batches. We will also have set and spike drills,” Lysandra said, meeting the girls’ eyes. They were at the right side of the court, positioning themselves in a semicircle to have a better understanding of today’s instructions.

“After that,” her friend continued, “you will be separated into four groups, and since we have an uneven number of people, some members of the women’s team will be joining you in the court to fill in some of the blanks. A group will be playing against another in one set of twenty-five points. After that, the next two groups will do another set. Coach Maeve and the rest of the team will be observing your play and skills. I wish all of you nothing but the best of luck.”

In the corner of Aelin’s eye, she noticed Coach Maeve sitting on a bench with the clipboard from Fenrys’s registration booth. The coach’s black hair was twisted at the nape of her pale neck, probably styled as such to give way to the green UTerra cap she wore on her head. The woman intimidated Aelin every time, especially when the former’s mouth was curved downward, which was exactly what was happening as she scanned the list of names on the paper.

Lysandra had given them a few minutes to stretch their limbs and muscles. Elide opened her legs in a wide v-shape and started reaching her toes. Aelin did the same, feeling the intense burn within her hamstrings.

“Are you okay, Ae?” El asked as she bent her torso closer to her right leg.

Aelin focused on stable breathing. “I am.”

“You seem distracted, though. Did something happen?”

She shook her head, dismissing the worry in her friend’s eyes. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m just nervous.”

“You never get nervous.”

“Of course I do,” she laughed once. “I am simply good at hiding it.”

By the grave look on El’s face, she clearly wanted to say something but decided to let it go at the last second.

The two of them paired up for the drills and stationed themselves in the court. Eleven pairs, each person facing the other, parted with a wide distance between them. Aelin stood at one edge of the boundary line, while Elide stayed at the opposite one. They started by alternatively volleying the ball against their forearms.

Aelin was enjoying herself because it was such a chill drill. Elide’s passes didn’t even falter one bit. After several minutes, Coach Maeve blew her whistle, indicating the end of the first test.

The next trial focused on service and receiving skills. She’d have to cleanly serve the ball toward Elide, and her friend would have to receive it and try to lessen its momentum at the bounce. Then, her friend would have to serve it back to Aelin, repeating the cycle.

She spun the ball between her fingers and let it fall. It bounced back to her, following a slightly curved path. Services were one of her favorite parts of the game. It was either a hit or a miss. During official and practice matches, her jump serves often did the trick. Opponents failed to receive it, resulting in a service ace. The feeling of having no one catch the ball brought her confidence and arrogance, mostly the latter one.

But it wasn’t a match yet. All she had to do was properly serve it to Elide as precise as possible.

She settled the ball on the tips of her fingers and swung with her right arm, whipping the ball into the air. It bounced lightly on El’s forearms, and she hurriedly took hold of it and shifted to a service position.

The simple drills went on until rivulets of sweat ran down Aelin’s face and her body screamed with exhilaration. The next trial on the list was the short match.

She went to her team, which was organized by one of Lys’s teammates. The lineup depended on their preferred positions on the court. She was teamed up with four others, one of which was Elide. Nesryn completed their group, a stand-in for the missing middle blocker position.

Their team was scheduled to play during the second set, so they perched on the ground and watched the game closely. All through this, what Aelin heard inside the comfort room rang in her ears. The words brought her back to a time in her life where she second guessed every facet of her life, painfully so.

She took note of some of the girls opposite them looking at her and whispering within themselves. Her jaw tightened as she glanced away. They were probably the ones gossiping about her, tattling without a single care.

The first game breezed through without her studying the teams’ moves. Being in the wrong headspace was not ideal, not when her absent mind could cost her a position in the official team.

Her group of six arranged themselves on their side of the court, with the set-up they had agreed on earlier. The opponent served first. The ball touched the top edge of the net, causing it to fall. Nobody on Aelin’s team caught it; none were fast enough to save it.

The other team served once again, but this time they intercepted it as she received the ball. Elide caught it next, gracefully touching the ball with the tips of her fingers and setting it up high. The one named Essar, another middle blocker, jumped in time to hit it as fast as she could, resulting in a marvelous quick attack. They all hollered in victory after getting a single point.

Aelin served next. She did a jump serve, only to send the ball beyond the end line. She cursed under her breath.

“We’ll get it next time,” Elide calmly told her.

In the corner of her eye, the girls from earlier were snickering at her sad attempt at an ace. El noticed them, too, and her mouth turned down into a frown. Aelin might have sudden bursts of anger here and there, so the feeling was considered normal for her. But Elide? Once her friend got mad, she was the goddess of slow deaths. And El was absolutely not the forgiving kind.

In the end, Aelin’s team won with twenty-five points against their opponents’ twenty. It was a swift set, to her relief. Even so, she remained frustrated with herself, because her mind wasn’t in the game at all. She played purely on intuition, not on consciousness. That was why she had numerous blocked spikes and bad receives. It was her instinct to hit a straight or a cross shot without thinking of the blockers leaping to meet her. As a result, almost all of her attacks met the palms of their opponents.

Thanks to Nesryn and Essar’s blocking, they managed to score more points. Their team’s defense was a hundred times better than their offense, and Aelin felt nothing but guilt about it. Other than her, there were two more wing spikers in their midst—Anya and Rista. Undoubtedly, they were feeling the same as she was.

It was a pathetic show of their strength. Of course, considering that their little group had just been established before the game, mistakes were inevitable. Furthermore, their win did not show their capabilities as a unit; it had only accentuated those who had truly shined.

And Aelin was not one of those.

If she wasn’t accepted because of her horrible and stupid performance today, she didn’t know what to do next. Her disappointment would crush her. Her father’s disappointment would be even more unbearable.

The panic at that thought swirled around her, carefully wrapping her in a sheet of ice. Her breathing was already shallow due to the non-stop exchange of attacks during the game, but it intensified, leaving her in a hyperventilating mess.

Elide threw her a concerned look, pulling her into the huddle around Lysandra.

“On behalf of the Lady Stags, I would like to thank each and every one of you for partaking in today’s event. We are delighted that you shared your time and remarkable talents with us,” Lys said, gesturing with her hands. “We’ll be releasing the results of the tryouts by next week, so be sure to drop by the gym every now and then for the announcements. Let’s all wrap it up, and see you around!”

The crowd dispersed noisily. One would’ve assumed Aelin was deaf for the blank reaction she wore, staring at an empty space on the concrete.

_She doesn’t look anything special._

_She’s like a dictator to her teammates, ordering them around._

_They hated her there._

The words she’d happened to hear echoed in her mind. She tried to swallow them, but they were as sharp as shards of glass, leaving trails of blood in their wake. Leaving trails of hurt and an unwelcome reminder.

_You have no life here, Aelin. You are nobody here._

_Your father would’ve preferred dying than witnessing you grow into such a disgrace._

_Such a shame, isn’t it? That people keep on leaving you._

She loosened an unsteady breath. Her fists unfurled along with her exhale.

_Other universities would surely laugh at your sad attempt at being a wing spiker, unlike the greatness that your father was._

“Enough,” she whispered to the air, to the voices ringing in her head.

“Ace?” Lysandra squeezed her arm, distracting her from the unwanted spiral of her thoughts. “Ace, are you okay?”

Her two friends’ lips thinned out of concern for her. Their eyes conveyed the same expressions everyone gave her as soon as they’d heard her story—pity.

And she couldn’t. She couldn’t take it anymore. She wanted to breathe. She _needed_ to breathe. Her skin felt like bursting at the seams. Her legs itched to run until she reached the end of the world and jumped from it. Her eyes were unseeing despite their clarity. Her heart pounded, embracing all the emotions she’d been experiencing since she awoke.

It didn’t even register in her mind that she was sitting on the ground with legs bent until her friends dropped to her level and started talking to her in hushed tones. She could discern the worry in their voices, which only triggered another wave of guilt.

“I-I have to go,” she mumbled before shooting to her feet and grabbing her bag from a corner.

Her name was called repeatedly, the sound reverberating through the hallway. Some students from the tryouts walked ahead of her, and in her hurry, she carefully swerved around them. Her shoes squeaked against the glossy floor as she dashed all the way to the front doors of the gym.

Once she got out, she didn’t head straight toward her car. Instead, she turned sharply to the left, following the dirt path to the grassy knoll behind the building. To any other person, her rattled appearance must have been a shock, but she barely cared. All she needed was to breathe and to think. No, she needed _not_ to think at all.

Aelin was only halfway to the foot of the rounded hill when she flung her bag to the ground and crumpled against the wall. Her arms cradled her knees close to her chest as she fixed her attention to an ant hill several feet away.

It had been a while since she’d acted this panic-stricken. Those girls whispering about her had undoubtedly brought forth unpleasant memories that she could hear the words spoken as clear as the surface of a lake. Just like the last time, she still could not handle the depth of her feelings. It was as though she were bathing in fire, and she was begging for somebody to douse it and let her inhale unsullied air. And just like last time, she had nobody to turn to.

Leaves crunched under heavy weight, indicating another person’s approach, but she paid the sound no heed. At least, until the new arrival spoke.

“Unfocused, sloppy, and tactless. It is amazing how you always elicit new words for me to describe you, Galathynius.”

Ignoring the urge to look up, she flatly said, “I am not in the mood, Whitethorn. Go away.”

He scoffed. “Your little show inside the court was probably the worst I’ve seen of y—”

“I said, I’m not in the mood!” she yelled, the force of her rage causing her to stand. “Is that so difficult to understand?”

She must have appeared incredibly deranged, because his eyes widened slightly as they fastened on her face. That was not new, however. She figured that she’d always looked crazy to him.

His surprise at her outburst ebbed quickly, seeing how his brows tilted toward his nose bridge. “So, what? You’re here to wallow in despair?”

She trained her eyes on a tree behind him, afraid that if she stared at him, she’d do the wrong thing and punch his pretty face into a pulp. “Just leave me alone.”

“Because that’s what you truly want, right?”

Her eyes snapped to his, wide and disbelieving. “What are you talking about?”

He shook his head, dismissing her question. “Are you really serious about volleyball? It seems to me that you play because you have nothing else to do in your sad life.”

Whitethorn still wore his UTerra jersey, along with his squeaky clean volleyball shoes. Aelin had always been mesmerized by his domineering size, much more so by his unflinching and heavy gaze. But right now, being submerged in an all-consuming hate for him, she forgot about that height difference as she stomped to where he stood and looked up at him, seething.

“How. Dare. You.” She pressed a finger to his muscled chest. “How dare you imply that volleyball is nothing more than a pastime for me? You do not fucking know me!”

He glanced at her finger above his heart, and then back to her face, leering. “I don’t need to. I only take one look at you, and I see somebody who’s very much halfhearted at what she does. Am I wrong?”

Was he? She didn’t know anymore. Her silence prodded him to go on.

“I see somebody who has so much potential but continues to throw away the opportunity to grow.” One of his hands wrapped around her finger, stopping it from pushing him. “That just proves how stubborn and dispassionate you truly are. I expected more from you.”

“Why do you even bother?” she shrieked. Surely, her voice could be heard inside the gym, startling those who’d stayed. “Why should I work hard to reach your standards and your expectations of me?”

“I expected more from the daughter of a legend,” he replied, his mouth in a frown.

“It is so stupid of you to assume that I’m like my father.” She let out a laugh without humor. “You know what, maybe I am, because at the moment, we are shells of a person. Empty and hollow. I bet that wasn’t what you expected from the daughter of a legend, huh?” 

Now, it was his turn to be stunned into uncomfortable quiet.

“It is people like you I hate the most,” she continued. “Standing on a high pedestal doesn’t give you the right to dictate how others live and how others survive. Just because you think you’re better than everyone else doesn’t mean you’re king of an imaginary world, subjecting people to your offensive whims. My sad, _sad_ life isn’t yours, Rowan Whitethorn. So, don’t tell me what to do. Don’t tell me what you expect of me. Because in the end, I will just disappoint you. I always do.”

The heat in her body had crept up to her face, so intense that she could feel the veins on her throat about to pop. Bending down, she grabbed her bag from the grass and stood back to vacantly stare at him

“We are done here,” she said in a flat voice. “Do not approach me ever again, or gods help me, I don’t know what I’d do to you.”

With those cold last words, she walked to her car at a swift pace. Because of Whitethorn, her plan of brooding by the knoll was destroyed, and she was left with nowhere to run. Her temples pounded with every step she took. Raising her voice gave her a certain amount of power, but it backfired, if the dryness in her throat was any indication.

Aelin immediately jumped inside her car after she fumbled with the key. She revved up the engine, and drove away from the gym parking lot, putting distance from the source of her distress.

It was wrong of her to shout at him, but at the moment, he deserved it. He deserved hearing how she despised him. He deserved hearing how badly she thought of him.

But didn’t she also deserve the things he’d said?

For a long while, she’d been feeling it her bones how little she looked forward to tomorrow. How she lived her life without purpose. Yes, she went to school, played volleyball, and visited her father. However, she had deluded herself into believing that her days were fulfilled with determination and beautiful hope, when truthfully, it lacked those things. The Aelin she showed to her friends was a front to keep them from worrying, to keep them from asking how she was. It was a front to show them that she was strong and resilient. But the truth was, she wasn’t.

Through the years, she acted as though the harmful words didn’t strike her raw, but they did. And every single time, they had hurt and left their mark deep into her.

Fireheart, her mother had called her. Because of her blazing soul and earnest heart, she’d said.

Fireheart, her father had called her. Because in spite of heartaches, hers remained burning, he’d said.

Hands shaking, she pulled up at an empty street, near the campus exit. Her palm covered her mouth as she glanced at the rearview mirror. Tears had fallen from her red eyes and down her flushed cheeks. Her face crumpled until her soundless tears gradually turned into breathless sobs. She cried and cried and cried.

Because despite her parents’ words, even the brightest of fires would eventually perish into nothing.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have decided on Taylor Swift's Daylight as this fic's song 😌

Aelin had spent the night in her father’s hospital suite.

The visiting hours did not extend to overnight stays, but she was certain the nurses had let her, after seeing how much of a mess she was when she arrived from the tryouts. She didn’t go to the farewell party the staff had for Nurse Eretia, since she didn’t want to impose herself on them. Mingling with unfamiliar faces was also not what she’d had in mind for the evening. Even so, Yrene had brought her two slices of pizza and a bottle of soda. For that, Aelin was eternally grateful.

Following her episode of crying her heart out, she had decided to drive back to the hospital, because she didn’t have a place in mind where she could destress and reflect. Additionally, she didn’t want to be interrogated by her friends while they wore troubled expressions.

Elide and Lysandra had messaged her, asking where she was and if she needed somebody right away. She had assured them that she was all right and that she went back to the hospital. She had told them that her body just needed to rest.

Her words, for certain, did not alleviate the concern of her friends, but she knew that they’d let her have the time for herself.

Aelin’s two best friends had also asked if they could visit her dad in the evening, too. She’d declined, adding that perhaps next week would be a better time, but her heart warmed at the notion. The gods truly blessed her with Elide and Lysandra.

She was wrong when she said that she saw pity on their faces. It was tenderness and alarm and helplessness rolled into one. She was ashamed that she shied away from any assistance they could offer her. But at the same time, her lungs required clean air and her mind demanded clear thoughts. Running away was the right thing to do.

All night, she read to her father the book she’d brought. She also started writing on a new journal notebook, since the previous one had been filled out completely. At first, her fingers had halted at the top of the page. The delay in writing about her awful day was tempting, because her thoughts were of convoluted threads. Nevertheless, she wanted to give her father the rawness of her feelings, so she wrote until she burned the midnight oil and until her eyes fluttered close.

She had awakened once the first ray of sunlight touched the window, kissing the room with the bright promise of another day. Her notebook and pen had fallen on the floor, beside the couch she’d slept on. Watching cars drive through the Orynth streets, she continued writing by the window, with the sun warming her face.

Her quick visit to the cafeteria for breakfast was eventful, because some of the medical staff talked to her, asking where she was last night. It seemed that she’d been kind of a fixture around the building that the employees thought of her when she was gone.

She sat by a square table, gobbling on her egg sandwich and banana. The iced coffee also fueled her with extra energy for the day.

Staring at the blue Terrasen sky beyond the windows, Aelin was surrounded by a peculiar sense of solace. Yesterday’s events belonged to yesterday. She’d set those things aside, albeit temporarily, and focus on what the day had in store for her. As she wrote her journal entry the night before, it struck her that instead of facing everything head on, she should take one step at a time. Baby steps, she’d told herself over again.

Maybe she was still full of hope after all.

Aelin had finished her book by the time she glanced at the clock in the suite. Hours flew by like mere seconds that she didn’t even notice it was midday already. Her stomach growled in alarm. It seemed she needed to go back to the dorm earlier than she’d planned. The shirt she had slipped on the night before was relatively clean, and yet, she felt the stickiness of her skin with every move she made.

She was desperately in need of a warm bath and hearty meal for lunch. And maybe the sequel for her book, too.

After organizing her things and cleaning up a bit inside the bath room, she put on a dark green UTerra hoodie that she’d bought during the first week of freshman year. During that time, almost all of her classmates had purchased official school merchandise. Perhaps the tendency of new college students to buy such items was heavily influenced by the excitement and pride that an unfamiliar environment brought. In her case, she wanted to boast about being accepted into the university.

“Thanks, Yrene,” she said, leaning on the counter of the nurses’ station. “Please message me if something happens.”

The young nurse gave her a thumbs up. “I’ll text you updates every few hours. Don’t worry.”

Aelin opened one of her favorite playlists and listened to the tracks while she drove, singing along. She was definitely not a singer. According to Lysandra, her voice was more suitable in midnight bars than the opera hall. People who’d hear her perform the aria might even impale themselves on swords. So, she settled on playing the pianoforte, which was also her mother’s favorite thing to do. Sometimes, she’d close her eyes, face the billowing wind, and recall the sound of her childhood as her mother’s fingers flittered across the keys.

Orynth’s town center in the middle of the day was as lively as it was at night, their only difference being the vast colors of streetlights and the wild chortle of laughter in restaurants. Even with the sun at its peak, the people threw themselves into the bustling plaza despite the heat. It never hindered the population in doing activities out in the open, since the Terrasen air brought a slight chill to the bone.

She pulled up at an empty parking space by the curb, and bought a sub sandwich for herself. As she passed by the bookstore, the sequel to the novel she’d been reading was displayed on the front window. She nearly squealed in delight. The gift certificate Aedion had given her on her birthday was in her wallet, begging to be used. Gods, it was a blessing to have a cousin who knew her too well, as though they’d bonded inside the same womb before they were even born.

Clutching her purchases for the day, Aelin happily whistled a song out of tune. She was at the bottom part of the bookstore’s stoop when the hypnotic smell of buttery and sweet pastries attacked her with a slap. Her nose scrunched as she took it in. She searched for the source, glancing around.

 _There_.

She spied the bakery several shops away from where she stood. A varnished wooden board hung from a black, wrought iron rod above its door; etched on it was the word _SpindleBread_ —the bakery’s name.

A bell above the door frame chimed faintly when she entered. The scent hit her full force, evoking an embarrassing moan from her. A lady in a blue apron, probably two decades older than her father, smiled warmly at her from her chair behind the counter. She grinned back.

The shop’s walls were painted a pale yellow color. White shelves and low racks lined up against them; the L-shaped space opened up for customers. A door behind the counter was ajar, most likely the entrance to the baker’s kitchen. To the far left end of the store, another customer was hunched over the refrigerator. She headed toward the right path, where the sweet pastries were.

Aelin grabbed a tray and plastic tongs from a corner stack and circled the shelves like a vulture. There were chocolate chip muffins, eclairs, powdered croissants, custard-filled donuts, cinnamon rolls, and flaky pastries drizzled with strawberry syrup. It was almost impossible to choose among the mouth-watering variety before her.

Satisfied with her choices, she made a beeline for the left side of the bakery, where the savory products were displayed like trophies. When she turned at the corner, she realized that she and the other customer shared the same color of clothes, so she smiled to herself. Meat pies and floss buns captured her attention, so did the cheese loaves and flatbread. She was downright gleeful, giddy at the display before her. But she turned toward the cake refrigerator at the same time the other customer faced her. Aelin’s smile faltered.

Green irises connected with her turquoise ones.

It was, of course, none other than Rowan Whitethorn, wearing a black beanie and the same UTerra hoodie she had on.

The two of them seemed to have frozen along with time, tongs and trays suspended in the air, because it took her several seconds before looking away. She badly wanted to strike herself with the tongs. Why did she even avert her gaze? She had warned him yesterday not to approach her anymore, so why was she the one doing the avoiding?

And because she was an idiot, she pretended to find the baguette interesting, nodding at some other pastry on the shelf. Then, she felt him, rather than heard him, pass by her. Her spine stiffened, so rigidly that she thought it’d snap.

Orynth was Terrasen’s largest city. Thus, it was quite surprising that they happened to meet at the same place, same time. The gods must’ve truly hated her guts that they’d put her in such an awkward situation.

Surprisingly, Aelin didn’t feel anything but unbearable tension when their eyes met. She expected to be filled with anger and contempt if they saw each other at the university. Instead, she did not feel anything at the moment, save for said awkwardness. Perhaps crying it all out last night had been extremely beneficial, and maybe writing down her feelings helped, too.

The fridge at the end of the bakery stood taller than her. Her eyes immediately fixed on a round chocolate cake with a few missing slices. Red, glistening strawberries were placed on top in a circular pattern. She wanted to buy a slice or two, but the pitiful clink of coins in her wallet disagreed. Her allowances from Great-Uncle Weylan and Uncle Gav were almost at their dregs, and she shouldn’t spend it all off on a bakery spree. Maybe next time, then.

Throughout her façade of looking at scrumptious-looking cakes and rolls, her ears strained to listen to Whitethorn at the counter, but his and the lady’s voices were too soft for her to hear clearly. Then, she continued staring at a loaf with seeds on top until she heard the chime of the bell, indicating the opening of the door. She glanced at the entrance subtly, relieved as she saw his tall form slip out and turn to the left.

The weight pressing onto her chest lightened, causing her to heave a deep sigh. Despite her unwavering decision of ignoring Whitethorn whenever they encountered each other at school, she only comprehended now that she was not ready for that yet. He had been a complete bastard to her the day before, and the things he’d uttered smacked into her with the force of a hurricane. His words had delivered a daunting blow, something that would take her time to forget. She was not mad at him anymore, neither did she want to throttle him. But she simply didn’t want to concern herself with him and his awful disposition.

No more insults. No more name games. No more banters.

For a hot second, an unexpected wave of sadness plunged into her.

She snorted at the thought and shook her head. “Good riddance,” she muttered to herself.

With a tray full of golden pastries, she walked up to the counter and pushed it toward the old lady. A nameplate pinned across the woman’s chest showed a name in cursive letters—Philippa. Perhaps she was the owner of the store, Aelin guessed.

Philippa began wrapping her items in separate wax paper pockets, humming to herself. Then, she loaded them all to a brown paper bag and took Aelin’s payment.

“Thank you,” Aelin murmured when the woman passed her the change and the bag.

“Wait, dear,” Philippa pulled out a medium-size cake box, “Don’t forget this.”

She stared at the box in confusion. “I-I didn’t. I only bought these,” she said, holding up her package.

Philippa gave her a warm smile and nodded. “You didn’t. But the handsome young lad from earlier ordered it for you.”

She already had an inkling as to who the woman pertained to, but she still asked, “Who was it?”

“Why, that customer before you, of course!”

“Whitethorn?” Her voice was as tiny as a mouse’s.

“You know him! That is good. I was starting to think he was a pervert stalking a beautiful girl.” There was a sparkle in the old woman’s eyes as she glanced at Aelin’s hoodie. “Well, I suppose the two of you know each other from your school.”

“What exactly did he say?”

“He said he wanted to order this chocolate cake, only that I should hand it over to you instead. He paid for it, along with other pastries he bought and skittered off.”

“I-I can’t accept it.” Aelin pushed the box back.

“Please, dear. The boy said it is a gift. Take it. If you don’t, it’s going to rot in here. I wouldn’t want to see one of my cakes go to waste. Such a sad sight.”

The woman was guilt-tripping her into bringing it home, and by the look on her face, she knew what she was doing. So, Aelin sighed and grabbed the box by its cardboard handle. “All right.”

“Thank you, dear.”

Aelin was halfway out the door when Philippa added, “Oh, and don’t forget to thank that pretty, pretty boy.”

If her eyes had lasers, the chocolate cake would’ve been ashes by now.

As soon as she reached her dorm room, she had arranged the pastries in a woven basket in the middle of their dining table, the others inside the fridge. She had perched on one chair, with her feet on another, and consumed her lunch in an unattractive manner. The cake that Whitethorn had bought for her was the same chocolate cake she’d been lusting after at the bakery, although smaller in size; it was a mini version.

Aelin could not wrap her mind around the fact that he had given her a gods-damned cake, so she kept on scowling at it until the door burst open and her friends filtered in.

“There you are!” Elide exclaimed. “Have you been at the hospital the entire day?”

She nodded. “I stayed there until lunch, and then I bought food at the plaza.”

“We bought you some fried noodles,” Nesryn informed, showing her a take out bag.

“Thanks, guys,” she said sincerely. “I’ll save it for dinner or an afternoon snack. I’m feeling so full already.”

Lysandra narrowed her eyes. “Were you just glaring at that cake as if it gutted your entire clan?”

The sigh that left Aelin’s lips reflected that of a slightly stressful day. It wasn’t at first, not until she encountered Whitethorn. “It was given to me.”

“If it was given to you, why are you eye stabbing it?” Nesryn asked, sitting on the edge of El’s bed. “I thought you liked chocolate.”

Lysandra continued on probing Aelin’s inner thoughts using sheer mind force. The two of them had spent so much of their high school years together that they seemed to glean whatever the other was thinking just by looking.

“You said it was given to you,” Lys started. “By whom?”

Aelin glanced at each of them before saying, “Whitethorn.”

Seconds passed before her friends’ collective outcry.

“Whitethorn? As in Rowan Whitethorn, Captain Whitethorn, the _bane of your existence_ Whitethorn?”

“Is it Opposite Day today?”

“I thought the two of you are mortal enemies or something.”

She held up a hand to silence them. “Let me explain… He and I got into an explosive argument yesterday, which led me to telling him not to approach me anymore. And, I don’t know, maybe he felt guilty for it. Hence, the cake.”

“What did happen yesterday, Ae?” Elide inquired in a meek voice. No, not meek. But a voice that a person used when coaxing a wild animal out of its shelter.

Observing her friends’ concerned and curious gazes, she decided to tell them everything. From her hospital visit to her comfort room eavesdropping to Whitethorn confronting her about her shortcomings. They deserved her honesty, she thought. And she deserved it, too. She trusted them, trusted them not to judge or pity her, but to understand and just lend an ear.

Talking about it to somebody was one step toward her own growth.

After she recounted her story, Lysandra grabbed her phone from the table, fuming. The brunette started pressing on the screen with unparalleled intensity.

“What are you doing, Lysandra?” Aelin asked, warily.

“Texting Rowan.”

“What,” she shrieked, taking the phone from her friend’s hand. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking that he can’t do that to my best friend and get away with it. Now, give me my phone. I’ll message Rowan, and then message Coach Maeve about those girls you heard gossiping. What are their names?”

She groaned exasperatedly. “Don’t message Whitethorn and Coach Maeve. Let me fight my own battles.”

“Oh, I’m letting you, but I’m not letting you wield a sword alone,” Lys countered. “Those girls’ names, Aelin.”

“I don’t know their names,” she cried.

“Describe them, then.”

“No. Stop being so dramatic about this.”

Elide watched them with a furrowed brow; Nesryn’s eyes slid back and forth between them, and she looked as if she was sad about the lack of popcorn in the midst of drama.

Lys stared pointedly at Aelin. “If this were the other way around, you’d be more than livid with whomever hurt me.”

True. She’d burn those people who’d attempt to wound her friends, and she’d enjoy every minute of it. Still, she was not comfortable with the idea of Lysandra scolding Rowan for her. For an unknown reason, she wanted to be the one who put him in his place.

“Let’s be calm, Lys,” Elide interceded, leaning against the kitchen sink. “Aelin’s right. Let her handle Rowan… And I don’t think she wants those girls to be rejected from the team because of what they’ve said.”

“My team members stand with respect, not with mockery. Not making it into the team is a proper punishment.”

“Lysandra,” Aelin started. “You don’t believe that. They’re supposed to get into the team because of their skills, and I don’t want to take that opportunity from them. If we all get in, then good. I’ll talk to them properly.”

“Fine, fine! I hate it when you’re like that. You’re usually the most unreasonable of us,” Lys pushed Aelin's feet from the other chair and plopped down on it, placing her chin on her palm. “So, what about Rowan? I guess he gave that cake as an apology.”

She shrugged. “As long as I don’t hear the words, I won’t forgive him. I’m not angry at him anymore. At least I don’t think so. Still, I won’t accept anything he gives me, even if it is covered in decadent chocolate.”

“Really?” El hummed. “Then, I suppose it’s fine for us to eat that. I am craving for dessert after all.”

Lys and Nesryn nodded in agreement. “Ellie, could you fetch us some forks over there. This cake appears to taste better than sex.”

Aelin snorted and crossed her arms against her chest, ignoring her friends huddling around the cake. She didn’t care if she wouldn’t get to taste it. Not at all.

She took a peek at the cake being ravished by her friends. Her heart ached. Yes, it was a gift from a person she’d assassinate if given the chance, but it was still a gift. And it was a chocolate cake. Chocolate trumped all.

Aelin pulled a fork from the utensil container and plunged it into the center of the cake. “Half of it is mine,” she declared.

Her three friends guffawed until bits flew out of their mouths.

**Author's Note:**

> HERE ARE SOME VOLLEYBALL TERMS SEEN IN THIS FIC:
> 
> Outside Hitter- great all around player (pass, attack, block, serve and defend); places themselves to the left front position after the serve  
> Opposite Hitter- hits the ball against a solid block of the opponent; mainly responsible for blocking the other team's outside hitter (must have good defensive skills)  
> Setter- contributes to the team's main offense; they place the ball in the air where attacker can hit the ball into the opposing team's court  
> Libero- the player often receiving the hit from the opposing team; the libero is not allowed to attack the ball at the net, and is required to play at the defense zone of the court  
> Middle Blocker (or Middle Hitter)- the first line of defense against the opposing team's attacks; may also perform quick attacks near the setter  
> Some volleyball leagues make use of a Defensive Specialist, but in this fic, I have decided to forgo the position.  
> (Also, from what I have gathered, Outside and Opposite Hitters can also be referred to as Wing Spikers.)
> 
> I can't give an in depth description of these words (since that would take a long while), but I wanted to leave a general idea of it, especially the positions and responsibilities of each player. If you do, however, need a more thorough explanation, I highly suggest going straight to volleyball websites or youtube videos.
> 
> And again, I recommend watching Haikyuu!!


End file.
